The Golden Dagger
by miraimisu
Summary: When the princess in the tower flees and a mysterious object is causing great havoc among the Mysthallery community, it's up to the whole puzzle family to sort this out, except they have an exconvict with them and a troubling figure looming over them. Who could be behind all of this? [Post-UF. featuring Emmy.]
1. Chapter 1

**It's been so long, fandom o'mine! Goddammit writing with trimmed nails is annoying as fuck. Yes I swear now, my shipful 13 year-old self is so dead. I burnt her body and made myself a good fire.**

 **So yes, I'm kinda back in the PL fandom? I decided to do a decent story for once, neutral shipping-wise (or at least, not far from the canon ships, which are very scarce) and a bit more developed than my previous stories. Please, don't bother reading them, they're so badly written I'm mildly ashamed :'c**

 **Don't expect much tho, I don't know if I can even carry a decent plot for my life. Just enjoy this story where I try to bring the puzzle family together. As in, the professor, Luke, Emmy, Flora, and also have Clive as well. He's a good character to work with, I'll try to mold him with utmost care.**

 **Just enjoy the prologue, and let's see where this takes us c: Sadly, I still have some crucial points to polish, but I don't think the prologue will dwell too much into them because, you know, it's the damn prologue.**

* * *

Flora liked to consider herself a good woman. Despite her faults as a human being, those faults no one could ever change no matter how much somebody tried to. To her, somebody could only change a certain percent of themselves, and that was it. Sometimes, it was enough – sometimes, it just plain _wasn't_.

The young heiress knew very well the thin line between being stupid and being forgiving. Sometimes, the limits were blurred in tears, confusion, or utter disappointment. She had faced these very situations where she was either terribly concerned about other people, others, scarcely often, beyond pissed. However, Flora usually found herself being pitifully _disappointed_.

People, usually. Like, it was usually people who disappointed her, made her build fake illusions and impressions. Growing up with those backstabbing deceits and insecurities made her very aware of her surroundings, of the people who were around her, and that some people could – betraying what she thought before – hold ill intentions. Being brought up in a tall tower had its inconveniences. Yes, it had good views on a lush landscape, and was incredibly good to avoid pestering tourism concerning a heiress.

No matter the good intentions of her father, she had been so alone. She had grown in a place so close to thunderstorms, and so isolated, yet supposed to believe she had company and that she couldn't meet the outside world. She was terrified: terrified of the outside world, terrified of meeting new people when all she had had was Bruno and howling winds during breezy nights.

Being held in the top of a tower was deceiving, and not ideal if you asked her. But ask her: she possibly wouldn't have had it any other way. Had she been a commoner, the Professor wouldn't be there with her-

Ah, well, he currently isn't with her. He wasn't with her very often, neither was he now for that matter. Flora, age 24 and a blooming flower sometimes felt like despite having moved miles away from her home, felt like her ache and solace hadn't moved an inch from the bleak home of her tower. Almost ten years had passed ever since she had been driven away from the robotic village, yet her dainty stance in life hadn't changed. She was still weak as she was right then, still passive and hidden in a massive crowd.

So there she was, reading that goddamn letter again with a single candle as her companion, long past sunset. She looked at the sentences pointedly, as if trying to decipher a hidden message, any puzzle to comprehend the meaning or reason behind the letter. Flora grasped the sheet tight, frowning. Had it all come to this?

The girl ran a hand through her face and sighed in frustration. Things would never change if she didn't- if she just didn't-

"Flora?"

The mentioned hummed absent-mindedly, still staring at the paper in her hand as if it held her whole life. Her expression turned grim when she saw the undesired face of an offender staring at her through the window in front of her. Well, he was _not_ an offender, but he clearly was the closest thing to one. His antics were clearly not sane and _someone_ , just someone had to explain that barging into her bedroom through the window was _not_ the way to go on life.

She got up from her chair, which scraped the ground, titled and fell. She sure wasn't having none of his antics today, not with serious matters going through her head. The door flew open and there he stood, trench coat on and that scar on his forehead barely visible.

"Clive, what the actual-"

"Language, Flora." He breezed through the doorstep and rearranged his shirt. It was slightly wrinkled. "I reckon the Professor taught you better words to greet a guest."

She was sure he referred to Hershel as Professor either out of respect or just to mock her. And yes, it wasn't in her to swear, but yes, she wasn't having the best of days. Unneeded thoughts were rattling her head endlessly and Clive was not going to help. He never helped unless it was with terrorism and general havoc. Flora would never think otherwise. She still held her kind nature towards him, since being snarky and moody to him wouldn't help the situation.

However, he clearly didn't give _a fuck_ about her so she wasn't really to blame if Clive came across as a narcissistic ex-convict who had redeemed, sure, but still had a long way to go. _Specially_ with her.

"First of, you're not a guest, there was no previous warning of you coming by." Which was fancy talk for: ' _I don't want you here, but I'll put up with it'_. Flora put the letter back on its envelop. "And secondly, whatever business you have with the Professor shall wait, he's out in one of his business he never tells me about."

Clive rose an eyebrow. "I see."

If he was trying to play obvious or was being as emotionally dumb as usual, she didn't know. What was clear to her was that him being there or even existing in the same place as her drained her energy, so she cut to the chase.

"Clive, what is it that you need?"

He tugged at his collar. Flora welcomed the gesture, she was uncomfortable as well. "I was hoping to take you for a walk."

Flora gave no meaningful reaction and minded her own business taking imaginary dust from nearby books, acting as meek as usual when the unexpected happened. "Take me for a walk?" she sounded genuinely surprised for the first time.

"Well, yes."

Both looked out the window simultaneously and reached the same conclusion.

"It's dark, and it's raining cats and dogs outside, though."

"I'm aware."

There was something behind his eyes that made her hold her breath and remember that he wasn't kind, honest, trustworthy – despite what Hershel said in the end, or mildly friendly. She had kind of forced herself to believe that after he had kidnapped her, had become another one of her kidnappers who took her to spit on the Professor, as if she was an object or a damsel on distress. She was oh, _so_ tired of that.

And Clive had dared to tie bonds with her even when he sure had planned taking her away on the first place. He would always remain as a douche despite him forcing himself to spend time with her, like he intended to do now.

She just withdrew the fight. They weren't on good terms, but that didn't give her the right to be a pain to him. She wanted to change things, but had no hope on him wanting to. She would never be worth apologizing to, it seems. Nobody ever did, anyway. Not the Professor most of the times, nor Luke, Paolo, and sure not Clive, either.

It was so sad.

"We should go before the weather worsens." stated she in a rather stale manner, but it was a good sign. "Let's stay close the neighborhood anyway, just in case the rain gets heavier."

Clive courtly nodded, dazed by the fact that she had stopped being so stubborn on rejecting him and was starting to give the charade up, even if it was for an hour or so. He opened the door for her, grabbed one of her jackets quickly and went on ahead, handing the piece of clothing to her.

The climate wasn't exactly cold, and she was wearing that smooth cream turtleneck which was a bit too warm for that temperature. However, Clive had noted, she was a bit sensitive to cold, so she always wore warm clothing despite it being not so cold. She was always stuffed in jerseys and coats.

However, as they walked along the Thames in the middle of a night drizzle, he noticed how her complexion was slightly hunched over and she gripped her hands a bit tighter than usual. He was a bit too prone to looking into those little details that gave people away. Watching her dwelling on her inner turmoil, focused on a faraway trail of thought that he couldn't comprehend right now; it set on all his alarms: something was off with her.

And yes, she wasn't usually that expressive, keeping herself to herself and appearing naïve and passive. In the past, her feelings had taken refuge on her mind, never spoken out loud or physically expressed for that matter. Her torment must be pretty damn huge if she's being so silent but loud about it.

Flora suddenly stopped in her tracks. Clive walked a few steps forward before stopping and glancing behind him. Confusion was evident in his eyes.

" _Clive_." she spoke his name, no venom but utmost care and fragility were evident in her voice. "Do you think I'm a burden?"

He turned and approached her, something akin to concern almost visible in his dark irises. She didn't even spare a glance up, focusing on the wet pavement under her feet. She did look up shortly after though, just after she had found courage to look at him without wavering. "Do you think I'm left behind… because I'm _useless_?"

The way she whispered that sentence spoke volumes to him. That thought must have been in her head for a while if she was so unsure about it, so distraught and seemingly peachy. This was a weak spot for her, and the fact that _she_ was asking _him_ moved him. He could go and shatter her heart, make a run for it and forget about her existence based on what she thought about him— but she actually asked _him_ despite the emotional risk. Her concerns must be above all those judgements, then.

Clive cleared his throat and tried to muster all the care he could in his eyes to cheer her up. He was increasingly uncomfortable with her silence and grey aura. "I think the Professor does not really considerate whether you are useful to him or his investigations, but looks after you by hiding you from his investigations."

"Yes, I-I know." her eyes were cast down again, shadowing her irises. "But why did he always bring Luke along then? Why would he actually do so when he's younger and…?"

 _Dead silent_. She just trailed off after that. The age argument was solid enough for her, and for Clive as well. He was still damn sure that the Professor would never think so low of Flora, somebody he thinks of as a daughter and holds deep care for, to leave her behind just because she isn't useful to him. Of course Hershel Layton wouldn't do such a thing to Flora. It would be much more to be expected from Clive– actually, he kinda did that years ago to her in his fortress, but it was a different situation, different reasons and something he regretted doing.

But why was Flora being so insecure about it? Wasn't it logical to think that your prosthetic father was just caring for you in a fatherly way? What kind of petty insecurity had gotten into her to make her worked up about it? Clive had so many questions to ask her, but it wasn't his place to ask.

It wasn't his business to dig into it when she was still rejecting all his advances, and mostly when he didn't know her well enough to know if this was just a little fish nibbling her heart or there was something bigger than that behind it. However, it struck him as weird to see her giving it so much thought when it didn't seem to bother her that much anymore lately.

Something had clicked on her. And he didn't like it one bit.

Flora mustered up a smile, quivering. "It's alright." It didn't seem to be. "I was just… wondering, that's all."

How dare she smile when she seemed so torn a few moments ago? How could she build her walls around her so quickly so he wouldn't peek and see what was going on? It was unnerving to see her rejecting his intents to make up whenever they had the opportunity and he just wished she'd _stop_ being so scornful and realize he wants to be friends, or at least be at ease with each other. Why can't she forgive him like everyone else had instead of being so closed off?

He stopped toying with the subject so he wouldn't carry a headache home along with his disappointment. This wasn't how the walk was supposed to unfold. And yet again, there was something nagging at him, whispering that something bigger than that was bothering her. He couldn't help but be earnestly worried about it.

"Clive?"

She stopped walking when he didn't follow her. The boy snapped out of his troubling reverie and caught up with her. "Are you sure you are fine?"

Her nod was enthusiastic and apparently honest. "Yes! Don't give it much thought, please. It was just a little thought I was rolling today, but I'm fine now!"

Somehow, despite seeing her so shiny and easy, her sudden glee seemed hollow and mildly faked at best. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with her. Clive was keen on overthinking stuff and being paranoid about basically every detail in his life – like that time he found out an ant in his apartment and thought it was a plague. That being said, he was usually right on his statements, but this time, he let it pass. If Flora wasn't going to spill the beans, he wouldn't bother to even try.

He had done enough to show he was there for her, whatever she decided to do with that was her problem, not his. And clearly today wasn't the ideal day for bonding, so he just called it a day and took her home. He wished her a good night and left quickly, hearing the door shut and click not long after.

Flora took off her coat and sighed. They had been out for not even half an hour and her mind felt as if she had been through hell and back. Her torment was still there, even after basically weeping in front of Clive. She still felt lonely, weak, and most importantly, clueless as to what to do.

She glanced at the envelope and frowned. If the world wasn't going to move for her, if the tower wouldn't come crashing down on her, then she'd have to do something about it. With a swift movement, she took the envelope, letter inside, and the flame that dimly illuminated the room faded away.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm so sorry it's so short, so scarce in dialogues and SO BAD. It'll get better, I swear :D I'll be retyping this when I have the time. Review if liked, love you! 3


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm not entirely sure why, but I'm pretty damn invested in this fic? I have so many hopes for this to actually develop nicely and neat it's fantastic. I can see myself screwing up as well. AH THE WONDER. By the way thanks dear reviewer n_n You made my day.**

 **EDIT: I've become BNHA trash and my life is changed. Also, I was editing this (as I most usually do before posting) and this had so many typos I'm so dead.**

 **I'll just carry on with this, or I'll rant over and over.**

* * *

"No, Luke, we have no croissants at home, I'm afraid."

"Oh, not even some good _quesadillas_?"

"None of those… _quesadillas_ , either."

Luke sunk in his seat the slightest bit. Years had passed on him, it was physically apparent, but his childish antics were craved in his heart. "That's a shame. I was hoping to get some food after such a long trip from Mysthallery over here."

"Patience, my boy." assured the professor, adjusting his slightly askew hat. Years had passed on him as well, but Claire's hat hadn't even moved an inch. "We shall have a pleasant food before packing."

The boy beamed after hearing that. Mysthallery wasn't particularly far from London, but he had been travelling from one place to another after landing. He had just come home from America after so many years overseas, many years of unnecessary sun – and the first thing he had done after his plane touched land was squeeze the air out of his mentor and jump into his car.

Make no mistake, Luke was having a good life in America: he had made lots of new friends and life there was interesting, different but interesting nonetheless. However, the thought of coming back to London had him squirming in the plane all the time.

So there he was, having a seizure over solving puzzles again with the professor and sorting out some mysteries if the opportunity was given. He was so glad to be by his side again, it had been too long for his liking. However, the matter at hand was serious – it was the main but only reason the Triton family had been called over to Mysthallery.

The village's safety was at stake again. And this time, the situation gave him goosebumps like no other had ever done.

"I assume you are excited to see Flora as well." Spoke the professor softly, who had been silently wondering about Flora's whereabouts all day.

Weirdly enough, he hadn't seen her since yesterday afternoon and the thought didn't exactly put him at ease. Not seeing each other was a given, since the professor was constantly travelling or _actually_ working – since, you know, he is actually a university teacher and he does have a job aside from his investigations. But this time, the professor hadn't even seen her go to bed, just heard her move in bed from his bedroom.

Nod, nod. But the young man had noticed how Layton's face had turned slightly grim. Something was going on inside the professor's mind, and he was dying to inquire about it. So he just did. "Something wrong, professor?"

"Ah, nothing big." answered the professor absent-mindedly. His mind was full of information about either university, the case they had been told about or Flora. In one corner of his mind, he was also thinking about how Luke had grown into a fine young man and how his voice had changed.

So well, _nothing big_ wasn't the most accurate terminology.

"I was just thinking about how we are going to tackle this complex matter. This… _issue_ Mysthallery is suffering of is no bland subject, my boy. If the information I have been given isn't mistaken, we're confronting an enormous problem."

Whatever the situation was, – which Luke wasn't completely aware of for obvious matters, such as mostly his parents not wanting to scare the hell out of him – it must be something insidiously big, since the professor was genuinely worried and, for once, slightly intimidated. The professor had taught him to be brave, and he'd always stick to his mentor's teachings.

However, seeing an almost parental figure quiver over what should be a rather silly matter was unsettling. "I'm sure we can do this, professor! After all, we're no weaklings, and it's us we're talking about. I bet we'll be fine."

The professor tipped his hat approvingly, smiling. "Ah, it's good to see your positive demeanor still beats in you, my boy." his eyes spotted a shiny object leaning on the window. Luke took it, on cue. "Oh, what a bizarre place to find a coin. I should be more careful with where I leave my things from now on."

"Still untidy as ever, professor." laughed Luke good-naturedly. Some good things never change. "I hope your house is decently tidy, or that I will be able to pass through the front door!"

As anytime his untidiness was mentioned, his expression turned serious. "It is _not_ that much of an issue anymore. Were that the case and Flora would be seething. She is surprisingly clean despite her _slight_ inability to cook."

Luke paled at the prospect of eating Flora's questionable meals. He had missed her, but not her whole self. As in, her hugs, her shyness and most of all, her stubbornness to tag along with them and make it all feel a bit lighter. Yet, this didn't mean her cooking came along with all those wonderful traits of her. It could actually drive away the worst of criminals.

Maybe, if Don Paolo or Clive had tried her cooking, they'd have returned her to the professor as soon as possible. Speaking of Clive… "Is Clive still staying with you, professor?"

"He moved out a few months ago, but he still drops by now and then. He has grown fond of us, it seems. We are in good terms with each other – concerning his relationship with Flora, though… that is a different story."

Luke nodded, slightly taken aback. "I thought their relationship would have gotten better with time."

"Well, they are _civil_ with each other, but that's to be expected. However, time will never heal all wounds, Luke." explained Hershel. His brow wrinkled slightly. "I still remember that time when Clive thought that entering Flora's bedroom from the window was a good idea." both chuckled at the image. "That was an interesting day, indeed. Flora's shriek still rings in my ear."

"Yeah, you told me about that particular issue in one of your letters." stated Luke, looking ahead. The sun was setting in London. "I had expected them to be at least friends. She's anything but unkind."

The professor laughed, as if it was a preposterous statement. "It seems like an obvious perception, but it'd say they're acquaintances at best. Flora holds some grudges over Clive, which is normal. Their… _story_ has been bumpy, I'd say."

"Well, everyone's story with Clive has been bumpy – he's a redeemed sociopath." stated the young boy bluntly, earning arched brows from his mentor. "However, I'd say it's rather _puzzling_ to know that Flora isn't willing to bend a bit to the circumstances."

The car turned and sped up a bit. "I do agree on that. She's keen on forgiveness, given the times we left without her and she just swallowed it up. Futhermore, I can understand your bewilderment. But whatever grudges she holds against Clive, though, that's another story. None of us were forcefully taken to a fortress against our own, but she was. Her irritation can be explainable for a short span of time."

Luke crossed his arms. He hadn't been able to spend time with Clive since he left for America just after the trials were over and he had been put to prison, making it impossible to see him before he was eventually released years later. Still, the professor had told him via letter how he had helped to rebuild London, how he had donated his remaining money to many orphanages and how he had just redeemed to the public eye. He was no saint, but seeing how he had regained the professor's trust, he had most of Luke's as well.

But, what had he done so wrong to have _Flora_ , of all people, _against_ him?

That guy must be an idiot.

"I just hope they can be peaceful with each other while we are in Mysthallery." mumbled Luke, adjusting his cap while glancing outside. "We have no time for bickering."

Hershel gulped. "I had intended to actually bring Clive along."

Luke stared at his mentor with interested eyes. "What's the big idea with that? Isn't it a bit too soon?"

Seeing his panicking, trembling irises, the professor laughed. "Don't worry, he won't be taking your position as second assistant anytime soon, Luke. After all, no matter how many years pass, your place will always remain unchanged."

Luke's stone heart was so touched and drowning in nostalgia he had the sudden urge to cry. "I'm glad, professor."

"Switching to another topic, did you bring all photos I told you about?"

"Ah, yes." Luke looked through his loyal satchel. "My dad gave them to me in an envelope. They must- be here… huh?" the professor adverted his eyes from the darkish road to glance at his pupil briefly. "They're not here!"

"Oh Luke, did you forget them at home?"

"I swear I didn't!" pouted he. He seemed offended that the professor had even thought about it for a second. Still, the professor seemed truly surprised. "I'll search better when get there."

"Whether the photographs are lost or not, I'm sure they will be around the city one way or another. Besides, I believe it will be better to see them there in a calmer atmosphere than here or at home. We must refrain from jumping into rushed conclusions."

The professor just titled his hat a bit, not realizing how disturbing the case sounded if he was all about not being scared. "Professor, you're kind of scaring me with such statements. Please, don't be so vague."

"It wasn't in my intention to scare you, my boy. I just want you to be aware of what we may be facing before you come to terms with the matter at hand." he looked at his tense pupil. "Though it surprises me your father hasn't told you anything about it, or that you haven't heard about it yourself."

"Well, considering how busy I've been with college and how secretive my father is when it concerns Mysthallery, it's shouldn't come as much of a surprise." answered Luke. "I just heard snippets of it from my parents talking to each other, but not much more. I felt it was an important issue."

"It _is_ important." stated the professor dryly, parking his car in front of his house. Both exited the car, with Layton sighing while Luke jumped all the way to the front door. "I'd say that my bond with Mysthallery is what has me so concerned when it comes to its safety."

"I am worried as well," frowned Luke. The lamppost in front of the house's door threw a shadow over Luke's eyes, but it lit up instantly when the boy smiled. "But as long as we have faith on our capacities, we'll be fine, professor!"

Hershel unlocked the front door and let Luke in, who stepped in and relished on seeing everything mostly the same.

"Ah, your positivity. It really takes me back, my boy." whispered the professor with a warm smile, seeing him so upbeat upon just seeing the house. It'd always be his house no matter how far he went, or how much time he was away. And the professor was sure that Luke knew this as well.

As soon as Luke hung up his blue coat and cap, he went upstairs – skipping some stairs out of excitement, and searched for Flora. He went to her room instinctively thinking that Flora hadn't probably heard them coming or maybe, she was asleep or even listening to music with headphones or something. Albeit the logic of his reasoning, he didn't see Flora there, so he kept looking.

Meanwhile, the professor checked that all his papers were sorted, that there was no puzzle remaining unsolved in the table and that there was no uneven number of pens among his papers. He hummed in approval and proceeded to give Clive a call so he knew they were ready to part as soon as Flora came down. He was sure Flora already knew about the issue he had to attend to, so she'd understand why she couldn't tag along this time.

Besides, they wouldn't be away for that long, so she'd be at ease knowing they'd come back soon. Hershel smiled. She was so sweet, fretting over their safety and missing them so much. It only made the situation crueler to him, leaving her so he could do his business. He just hoped Flora would forgive them once again. At least they'd warn her this time. It made it better, right?

Honestly, it didn't make it a single bit better. Shrugging those thoughts aside, he dialed Clive's number.

"Professor?" the called hummed in response. "Where's Flora?"

As soon as he heard those words from Luke, he stiffened. Layton glanced at the clock in a nearby wall. Half past nine. "She must have gone out for an urgent errand, Luke!" answered he back. His pupil's silence seemed like an approval to him.

Still, her absence, though valid, rattled inside his head for a few minutes. He dialed Clive's number again and waited with unease. Her being gone so late in the night worried him. And for god's sake, it's Flora we're talking about. Why would she leave so suddenly when she'd be seeing Hershel _and Luke_ after so long? Something was missing.

" _Hello, professor?"_

Layton sighed, somehow relieved. "Clive, I'm sorry to be asking this of you so late in the night, but could you bother giving Flora a call while we finish sorting things out at home? We'll be ready in a minute or so."

Clive hit something on the other end. _"What on earth? Isn't she with you?"_

"She must have decided to take a walk around London or something, or she might be returning from the library." answered the professor, trying to convince himself that her absence was normal. It was a petty try, though. "Please do make a call. We need to tell her we'll be leaving."

" _It's no bother, I'll call her and… we'll meet at your house and part to Mystharelly."_

The professor chuckled. "Mysthallery, Clive. I noted it down for you."

The other mumbled something along the lines of _"my bad."_ and hung up, supposedly calling Flora right after. The professor took some of the files that Clark had given to him and eyed them with a clinic eye, his mental engines working together for a few minutes until he heard noise upstairs. Something seemed to have fallen. Hard.

"Luke? Is everything alright?"

The response came muffled. "Ah, I'm fine, professor! I was trying to reach for a puzzle Flora had over here!"

"Luke, don't invade others' rooms, it's not what a gentleman does!"

He heard a curt apology from his friend and tuned the obvious chatter of chairs upstairs out, knowing Luke would do just fine with whatever puzzle Flora had. Why hadn't she solved it by herself, though? She is pretty able with puzzles herself, not many escaped her grasp that easily.

Maybe the professor hadn't been around enough to help her out with it? It was a nasty thought, but it was highly unlikely. He was a good parental figure, not flawless, but he'd always be there for his children when they needed him. And Flora was no exception. She just _couldn't_ be an exception.

This definitely was not the moment to think about his parental figure when they had a pretty damn serious matter at hand. Jesus, life sometimes got hard on him when times got like this. He shouldn't be panicking so much, Flora had no reason to be in any danger: they weren't meddling with a heritage, an ancient treasure, or even a time machine. Well, they did have something to do at the moment, but they hadn't even stepped in Mysthallery, for the love of that's living and breathing.

Worst case scenario: Flora had gone to the library and got lost in the way home. Clive would surely locate her and tell her the situation, making her run home immediately and bid them goodbye. Then they'd part ways and he'd be very relieved that Flora would stay at home, far away from danger. She wasn't suited for those dark places: she must be protected, taken care of and nurtured with passion, like a good plant.

At least, that's how the Professor saw it. He couldn't really envision Flora kicking people off their shoes like Emmy used to. The picture didn't sit well with him, either. Just witnessing any of his beloved performing any sort of violence gave him uncomfortable chills. Well, not with Emmy: she was pure adrenaline and wilderness. Flora was a complete opposite.

And he wouldn't have her any other way, really. Nobody would.

The professor, in his state of growing distress, didn't notice Luke approaching him. "She sure is taking her sweet time, huh?"

"It seems to be like it. Forgot to mention as well, I'm sorry I didn't warn you about bringing Clive along. I hope you don't have much problem with that."

Luke shook his head. "I'm not particularly pleased with the idea – after all, having a reformed criminal travelling with us wouldn't bode well with anybody. But I'm easy. He's an intelligent man and he has proved himself to be useful." after a moment, he tapped his chin in deep thought. "Well, the experience we had with him was mostly made up, so there was little true personality and abilities shown to us, but I deem him to be able enough."

"Your judgement seems valid, my boy. I can tell you by the time I've spent with him that he won't cause us any trouble legal or personal-wise." the professor looked at the clock once again, getting impatient. "He might have done terrible things in the past that we have behind us right now. I think the last thing we should think about is about Clive's past actions, and think of him as a partner."

"I'll always put the case above our personal grudges, but I won't be excessively forgiving, either. I'm not a child anymore, and I know where to draw the line." the image of Flora being taken hostage by their next comrade and himself being beaten to the ground by a plant came to mind. "Besides, if Flora has given him the cold shoulder, I can't have full reliance on him."

Layton sighed. Luke could be terrifyingly stubborn when things came down to such harsh times. "I do agree that Flora's apprehension towards Clive is rare and to be taken into account, but please, don't make that the pillar of your whole opinion about him."

"It's not like I'm biased! But Clive did permit himself to let us interact with him on personal levels. And I can't even imagine what Flora and him did while we escaped the Pagoda, or how they even did so considering that Clive had full access to the place since it was his to start with!" Luke buried his face in his hands, suddenly overwhelmed with theories and weird presumptions.

He gasped, out of the blue. "What if he actually had some kind of bonding time with Flora during their little escape?" Layton nearly choked. "Maybe he saw her weak appearance, got her breaking points and took her deeming her to be most appropriate as a hostage! What if she discovered his act and he threatened her? Considering she was with a severe terrorist sociopath, he could have done all kinds of harm to her!"

Luke paled considerably and whispered, softly, afraid. "What if even wanted to have bonding _intercourses_ with her, professor!"

"Luke, you must be extremely tired to even reach that conclusion" sighed the professor, stiff as a pole. "considering that Flora was 16 and Clive is not a pedophile of any sorts. The most adventurous thing they did was probably play cards, or maybe she asked questions about her future self, like she immediately did once meeting him. The latter is the most likely option."

"Whatever, I just can't keep thinking about it. We mistakenly left Flora with a terrorist, and a part of my heart will never be able to live knowing that."

The professor slightly sunk in his sofa, sighing. "We _did_ have a big miss there, now that you bring the subject up. But if Clive wanted to keep his charade intact, perhaps hurting Flora or intimidating her in any way wouldn't be the wisest action. After all, he dig a lot in our lives to impersonate you."

"Even if he didn't investigate that deeply, Flora is a meek person by nature. Her background imposes such trait, and it just comes to the surface once you just glance at her."

"She chased us around St. Mystère on her own, even while she surely knew that Don Paolo was lurking in the shadows. I wouldn't consider her to be as meek as we consider her to be." answered the professor. He remembered those times with deep detail. "She's shy with new people, but that doesn't mean she isn't brave in her own way. Her initiative to step into the Molentary Express and the time machine all those years ago proves so."

Luke clicked his tongue. His perception of those times isn't as light as the professor remembers them, but seeing how troubling his past and late years had been, they must have been relatively happy days. "She indeed _is_ brave."

"Don't be afraid of Clive, or that much scornful towards him. Normalization will help make the situation lighter and tie loose ends with him. I'd say it's better to have him as a friend than an enemy, wouldn't you say?"

The thought of Clive with a hidden gun in his pocket waiting for him fell on him like a cold dash of water and shook his heart. "Very m-much so!"

The door swung open and a dramatically breathing Clive stepped in, taming his hair into place after what seemed like a long run to the professor's place. His next words shook his ground. "Clive, please take a moment to recompose you-"

"I, I can't find Flora _anywhere_!"

That was the moment when both Luke and Hershel that he hadn't brought her along. Luke gasped and got up (that was when Clive noticed him).

"What do you mean by anywhere, Clive?" asked the professor, calm on the outside and almost raging inside.

The other took a deep breath and grasped at his shirt. "I called her several times and she didn't answer, but her phone was operative. I searched for her at the library, her favorite market," _Flora has a favourite market?_ Luke asked to the air. "the park, in that goddamn café near the Thames that is always so jam-packed with people– I searched around her comfort zone, not that she should be there because it's late in the night and she's not much of a night walk person."

Luke's face went straight into panic mode, looking with desperation at the professor, who seemed to be wrapped, in check, under control, until he realized that his hands were actually shaking and that was _no fucking good_. He came with a quick solution to their predicament as a little patch-up. "I'll leave a note and make a quick call, we have to part now or we won't have time for anything productive in Mysthallery. The sooner we get there, the better."

Clive frowned, obviously with the cheap solution to the issue. "Are you serious, professor? How are we gonna leave Flora on her own without saying as much of a goodbye or an explanation?"

The professor had already written down whatever petty excuse he had for Flora, pretty similar to the same apologies he came up with when he had to deal with these situations. He faced Clive. "First, she's a perfectly able adult now. Second, I've told her where to call as soon as she gets home from whatever she's doing. And third, in case the worst happens, I'll be making a quick call while we start the car and part to Mysthallery."

"Professor, Clive is sorta right about this. We're making an abrupt run from this and Flora deserves a proper, in-person explanation at least. What if something happened to her while she was out, or even fled from home with a lover?"

The professor chuckled at the last option. "I honestly doubt Flora is seeing somebody these days. And you know perfectly well that Flora has no reason to leave on her own. The first option is much more likely than the other ones, and that's why I'll be calling."

Watching Clive's reaction, Layton's reasoning didn't convince him in the slightest. He was overly paranoid and internally hysterical, and didn't think none of those statements were 100% true like Layton was pretending them to be. He shut his mouth nonetheless, because he was being reasonable and his imaginary scenarios were incredibly unlikely to happen. However, Flora's words the day before played in his head over and over, like a broken record.

Once all documents needed were put together and everything was double-checked, they proceeded to the Laytonmobile. After a heated but unspoken raw with Luke over the front seat, Clive sat by Hershel while Luke sulked at the back. He'd get some decent sleep, at least.

Layton dialed a familiar number. The young person who answered in the other line grunted pleased greeting before the professor staggered around his failure as a parent.

"Yes, Kat? Thank goodness you answered. You see, I'm in a bit of a predicament here…"

While the professor sorted things out with whoever he was speaking so quickly with, Flora's dejected face reflected in the back of Clive's mind. The car roared to life shortly after.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I had to throw Katrielle in here because well, I know that it's very unlikely that her timeline is so close to UF's (in here, we are 8 years or so after UF), but maybe, in the case she was adopted (which I wish she isn't, because I want Hershel to move on from Claire and start a biological family as well), she could have been adopted as a young teenager and be working already in the Lady Layton timeline, as if they were meshed together.

So, just bear with it. It's not that important tho.


End file.
